Live Before You Die
by Jr. Marauder
Summary: Over Christmas holidays in Ginny's seventh year, she decides to have a talk with Harry, who left her two years previously for her own good. Written for fallenstarr's challenge, As We Grow Up. Betaed by the marvelous PhoenixFlames. Don't be afraid that you


Live Before You Die

A/N: Chocolate chip cookies to my mom, and of course J and T, for looking at it first. Written for fallingstarr's challenge "As we grow up" and beta-ed by PhoenixFlames. No copyright infringement implied or intended.

_As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that _

_wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your _

_heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll _

_break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll _

_fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old _

_one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll _

_eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too _

_much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds _

_you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. _

_Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that _

_it will never begin. _

_anonymous _

I'm sitting on a sofa in the living room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, watching the flames on the hearth flicker orange and red as they devour the logs we've collected to feed them. It's very late now--I don't know exactly what time it is, but I know that it's late enough that everyone else went up to bed a few hours ago to their nice, cosy beds with thick quilts to protect them from the mid-January cold.

But not me. I'm still waiting for him, like I've been for the past three days since I got back for Christmas holidays. I sit here crossing my legs, uncrossing them, playing my fingers across the rich velvet design of the Black family tapestry, rapping my hand against the wall. Anything to pass the time and to keep from driving myself mad with anticipation. He might not come back for another week, or he may come back tonight, but whenever he shows up, I'll be waiting here. In all honesty, I don't know why I'm doing this. It's probably one of my more stupid ideas, but I just feel like it's something I should have done a long time ago.

As a seventh year, I had a considerable number of free periods for study, so Luna and I were sitting by the lake trying to revise for that Transfiguration exam that McGonagall so helpfully decided to lay on us on the last day before break when Luna started insisting that hanging upside down from a tree was an effective way to make yourself absorb more of what you read. And so, against my protests that that was ridiculous and would only make all of the blood rush to your head, Luna grabbed her books as well as mine and ran off, forcing me to go running after her.

It was what she was running for that prodded something in my memory. I found her hanging upside down from a branch of the tree where Harry and I had spent so many of our glorious but short-lived hours together, stolen whenever we could. We'd talk and laugh and drink in each other's presence, and when he held me and kissed me, everything seemed to melt away. All the problems of the world and our own lives – it was like none of it mattered anymore.

I'll never really be able to convey with words how magical that time was, nor do I really want to. Somehow, just knowing that it was is enough, and to try to explain it seems to take away from its value. All I know is that was one of the best times of my life, and that right now I want nothing more than to be able to slip back into his embrace and let the world pass us by, at least for a bit. Not that I don't want to be doing what we're doing--I fully intend to join the Order officially when I'm out of school and do whatever I can--but some selfish part of me wishes that I could escape from all of it, for just a little while.

It doesn't matter, though, since Harry and I are through, at least for now. We'd had only a few months together when Dumbledore died suddenly and Harry said that he had to go on and fight Voldemort. He told me that it had to end. That continuing out relationship would put me in danger and that he couldn't bear for anything to happen to me because of him. I did try to argue with him, but every day of the two years we've been apart I've hated myself more and more for letting him go that easily, especially as I watch him spiral downward into reclusive, brooding silence and feel my own heart break for him and for me.

That's why I've been sitting here for the past few nights, waiting for him, for when he finally arrives. I want to tell him that I've waited through two agonizing years of separation from him and that this is ridiculous. I love you, I'll tell him, and loving you is a risk I'll have to take.

I'm going to tell him this as soon as I see him, before I can scare myself into backing down. For all I know, he's moved on. Maybe he thought I gave him up to easily and that I never really cared at all. Much as the thought pains me, it is possible. If it's true, though, I don't know how I'll ever be able to live with myself, knowing that I've thrown away the love of my life, and that it's all my fault. I just need to know. I'm probably jumping to the worst possible conclusions here, but--oh God--the door.

I hear the knob turn, then the door creaks and soft footsteps make their way into the hall. I hold my breath as I see him walking in. He looks pale, tired and more than a bit too thin with his glasses bent and sitting on his nose at an odd angle as though he has been punched.

I don't know how I'll talk to him now, not having been able to bring myself to hold a decent conversation with him since we broke up. I don't think it was shyness per say that kept me from talking to him--after all, it's hard to be shy around someone you've snogged in spare classrooms more than once while you were theoretically supposed to have been in Divination. I know this sounds weird--especially coming from me--but I guess it was respect that kept me from arguing more. He really felt that we ought to end it for my own good and I thought that maybe I should respect that, and that we could start seeing each other again after the war. Now I realize that you either do it or you don't, you love or you don't, and if it can be put on hold, it probably isn't worth doing at all.

"It's been a long time," I tell him.

After a few seconds, he seems to register my comment. "Yeah," he says. I lead him to the table and offer him some butterbeer, which he gratefully downs half of in one gulp.

I haven't really had the opportunity to look at Harry closely in a while, and now that I do, I almost regret it. He looks haunted, almost like the pictures of Sirius I used to see in the Daily Prophet when I was twelve. Despite what he's gone through, I try to tell myself, he's still essentially the same person, although I can't totally believe it.

After what seems like an eternity of silence, I speak. "I've missed you," I say quietly. 'I've missed you' doesn't begin to cover what I've felt, but I decide that it'll do.

Harry looks at me for a moment with the piercing green eyes that, though tired and weary, still manage to entrance me. "I've missed you too," he says, holding my gaze, but then looks away.

"It's good to be back here, but not nearly as good as it was to spend Christmas at The Burrow," I tell him in an attempt to break down the stiffness in the air. "It seems like such a long time ago now."

"It does," he says in agreement. "A very, very long time. Painfully long." He hangs his head, trying to fight off the memories. I decide that all this conversation will do is depress him, so I get to the point. If I could name another flaw besides my temper, it'd definitely be lack of finesse.

"Look at me," I say. When he doesn't raise his head, I reach my hand out for his, but he pulls it away. Not angrily, but it still hurts. "I have something to say to you, something I should have said a long time ago," I tell him. He doesn't respond, but I know he's listening, so I continue. "I love you, and I never stopped. Not once. When you said we should end it, I stupidly let you, but I've always regretted it. I'm of age and there's absolutely no reason why I can't take care of myself. I know there's a risk involved in being with a man who's supposed to defeat a Dark Lord, I'm not brainless, and if I chose the risk I don't see why you have to be so damned noble."

Harry looks at me, and I feel everything inside me coming to the surface like molten rock that's been trapped deep underground for too long. Talking to him now, everything is about to come out. "It's not just nobility, Ginny, it's reality. We can't do this, it's too dangerous, you know that! What am I supposed to do if you get kidnapped or killed or something because of your association with me, eh? I love you! How could I ever live with myself if you died?"

A million fireworks go off inside my head. He does care, he does, why did I ever doubt it? "Love me then. Really, I dare you, take a risk. I will, why won't you?"

He buries his head in his hands. "I'd do anything to be with you, just not let you risk your neck for me. I've said it a hundred times, no! I can't, you can't, we can't."

I reach out and put an arm around his shoulder. Surprisingly, he doesn't resist, and I take that as a good sign. "Harry, look, we're already in a lot of danger as it is, everyone is. If we decide to play it safe and stay away from each other there's still no saying we'll always be safe. If Voldemort was to show up right now, at the door, and we both died, wouldn't we regret not having been together while we still could?"

I watch him as he thinks about it. I know it's an awful thing to have to think about, but it's true. Everyone is in danger but we still have to live.

The flame of the lamp hanging above our heads casts a dim light over the whole scene, giving it the feeling of being in a crypt or some other equally depressing place. In a sense, that's extremely appropriate, as my life is slipping away right now, very slowly.

"I know, but taking the chance at your expense, he's after me either way, but you-." However, his words contradict his actions, because as he reaches out and holds the hand I draped around his shoulder I can feel his resolve breaking.

I smile at him. "The way I look at it, everyone gets one life to live, and if you don't really live while you're alive, then what's it matter if you die?"

He considers it for a moment. "It doesn't," he says finally, and I know that he's sincere.

I can't speak as he puts his arms around me and pulls me closer. I feel myself slowly vanishing into his embrace and his familiar warmth overcoming me. Everything else is falling away, and even though I know that is has to come back eventually, I'm ready for it now.


End file.
